


breathe you in ('til i hallucinate)

by nxrcissa



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Hallucinations, Hurt/Comfort, I LIKE TO MAKE STEVE SUFFER, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov Friendship, Steve Rogers and Natasha Romanov are best friends, definitely not canon compliant idek how to tag these kinds of things honestly
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-19
Updated: 2020-10-19
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:08:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27100987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nxrcissa/pseuds/nxrcissa
Summary: “Can you describe what you’re experiencing?” Bruce prompted.“Very vivid visual and auditory hallucinations. Sometimes they feel solid, I can touch them. Sometimes they pass through me like ghosts. They talk like real people. I-” Steve clenched his jaw and forced the words out, “I can’t tell sometimes.”“Uh...are you seeing one right now?” Bruce asked, “What do you see, Cap?”Steve let himself look at the hallucination properly for the first time since he’d walked into his apartment.“I see Bucky.”
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers & Avengers Team
Comments: 22
Kudos: 49





	breathe you in ('til i hallucinate)

**Author's Note:**

> See end notes for content warning.
> 
> Title from Dua Lipa's Hallucinate, of course.

In the ring, Natasha and Steve circled each other, the former with a smirk on her face. Steve wiped some sweat off his brow, making sure to keep his eyes on her. 

“Had enough yet?” Nat teased. 

Feeling the energy build, they both moved at the same time, weaving around each other so gracefully it could’ve been a dance. 

Steve twisted and tried out a new move he’d been thinking about. The execution was clumsy, but he knew he could hone it with practice, and it caught Nat off guard, allowing him to knock her off her feet. She sprung back up in a couple seconds, of course, but Steve allowed himself a pleased smile for even getting that far. 

“So old dogs _can_ learn new tricks,” Nat deadpanned. Steve raised an eyebrow.

“They can try.”

Nat surged forward and their hands exchanged a sequence of fast paced attacks and blocks. Steve moved to block a punch and realised he left himself open an instant too late. Now simply trying to keep up with Natasha, Steve followed her movements, looking for an opening to turn the fight around.

“Kick his ass, Nat!” Bucky cheered from the sidelines as Natasha got a sneaky hit on Steve’s ribs. The shout startled Steve, and the moment he directed his attention away, spotting Bucky and Thor standing together just outside the ring, Natasha struck.

Next thing he knew, he was on his back in the centre of the ring, Nat smirking down at him. He sighed, smiling up at her in resignation. 

“Now stay down, that’s a good boy,” she cooed, as if he really was a dog. Steve chuckled. 

Bucky whooped, and Steve tried not to obviously glance in that direction. Of course, Nat caught it, and followed his gaze.

“A worthy match!” Thor declared. Nat’s smirk grew.

“Distracted, Steve?” she asked knowingly, voice like silk. Steve knew he wouldn’t be able to deny it, but perhaps he could redirect it a bit. He was just grateful Thor happened to be standing there, too.

“Thor has nice arms,” he replied, “What can I say?”

Natasha huffed out a quiet laugh, getting up and offering her hand to him. He took it, tugging harder than he needed to. Stumbling, Natasha rolled her eyes at him fondly. 

“I liked you better when you had a stick up your ass.”

Steve laughed. They ducked out of the ring together, making their way over to Thor and Bucky.

“Lost again, pal,” Bucky teased, “It’s like you’re a little guy in a back alley all over again.”

Steve tried not to flinch at the remark, tried not to let the truth of it sting, then tried not to notice Natasha noticing. She tilted her head, eyes darting from Steve to the space Bucky occupied. 

“Steve, will you teach me that new manoeuvre?” Thor asked eagerly.

“Sure,” he agreed easily, “I haven’t perfected it yet, but maybe you can help me with that.”

He ignored the knowing look Natasha was pointedly directing at him.

“What’s that look for?” Bucky whispered. Natasha didn’t reply, and Steve continued to happily ignore both of them. 

“Certainly!” Thor enthused, “I look forward to it. I’ll find you tomorrow.”

“Alright,” he said, nodding as Thor strode off in his sweeping, purposeful way. 

“So,” Natasha started casually once Thor was out of hearing range, “You’re into guys.”

“You are?” Bucky asked, surprised. Steve looked away. Despite knowing it was legal and fairly normalised in the 21st century, he still felt deeply uncomfortable discussing his own sexuality. The fear ingrained in the back of his mind screamed that he would be discharged from the Avengers if he admitted it. 

“Guess I should’ve been looking for buff blonde men all that time,” she mused. He forced a light laugh, but Natasha caught on, as always.

“Hey, we don’t have to talk about it,” his friend assured him, giving his arm a comforting pat. He smiled gratefully. She knew him so well. He did _want_ to talk about it - he was pretty sure Sam had figured it out on his own, but he’d never said it out loud to anyone before. The only ones back in the 30s who knew he was queer were his partners in clandestine trysts, and there had been a decided lack of honest heart-to-hearts in those encounters. 

“I’m into both,” he confided eventually, “It wasn’t legal back then, so I never told anyone. Old habits die hard, I guess.”

Nat smiled softly. Bucky looked shocked as anything, apparently speechless. Steve fought to keep his eyes on Natasha.

“Well, I’m glad you told me,” she said.

They gathered their things up in comfortable silence and made their way out of the gym, headed to their apartments. Bucky trailed along behind them, still silent as the elevator doors slid closed. 

“Thor, huh?” Natasha teased. Steve rolled his eyes.

“He’s a good looking man,” he admitted, “but straight as a ruler.”

Natasha laughed as the doors slid open on her floor. She squeezed Steve’s hand briefly and breezed into her apartment, probably to go take a bath.

Steve felt tension sink into his body as he became increasingly aware of Bucky’s eyes burning holes in the side of his face. He shut his eyes. God, he hated elevators.

When the elevator stopped on his floor, Bucky followed him in. Steve sat down on the couch, and Bucky sat next to him.

“Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

To his horror, Steve felt himself getting emotional. He tried to clamp down on it. 

When it became apparent that Steve wasn’t going to answer him, Bucky changed tactics.

“Why didn’t you ever hit on me?”

Steve laughed, and it was a choked, painful sound.

✩✩✩

Ignoring Bucky was starting to get a lot harder. He started appearing next to Steve on missions, at the breakfast table, slipping under the covers next to him at night. Steve wanted more than anything to return his banter on the field, pass him the honey, turn over and wrap his arms around him, but he knew he couldn’t. Bucky’s words rang clear in his mind every time he felt sure he’d cave in. Bucky didn’t want him, hell, he didn’t even like him. He had no right to this.

Steve was so tired. He couldn’t sleep with Bucky warm and relaxed beside him, because all he could think about was reaching out to touch him. A million things he wanted to say to him cycled through his mind. He couldn’t close his eyes for fear that when he opened them, Bucky would be there, or Bucky would be gone. Caffeine burned out of his system. He didn’t know what to do. A part of him wanted to ask Bruce for help - surely he could synthesise a sleeping pill strong enough for his metabolism - but the larger part of him wouldn’t sacrifice the comfort of Bucky breathing beside him for a lifetime of restful nights.

Anyway, it wouldn’t matter that he wasn’t sleeping if it wasn’t for the fact that he was an active member of the Avengers. 

Though his reactions were still significantly faster than the average person’s, it was getting increasingly difficult to keep up with the villain of the week, let alone his teammates. 

“You okay, Cap?” Clint asked one day after a particularly gruelling call. Steve had been too slow, and it cost him a few injuries that could’ve been easily avoided if he was at his best.

“Yeah,” he grunted, “Just some bumps and bruises.”

“You need to take a nap,” the archer replied knowingly. 

“I’m not _that_ old,” he joked, forcing himself not to look at Bucky. Clint huffed.

“He’s right,” Bucky agreed, “I know you haven’t been sleeping much.”

“Hey, Cap, stop lying to yourself for a minute and come help me with this!” Tony called. Steve groaned and hauled himself up.

When he made his way over, he was mildly shocked to see Clint already there, already helping. How had he gotten there so fast without Steve noticing? He glanced up at Steve, then back at where he’d been sitting. Clint frowned.

“Who were you talking to?”

✩✩✩

A few days later, Steve stepped out of the shower, and Bucky punched him in the face. Taken by surprise, Steve smacked into the glass behind him. Not wasting a moment, Bucky kicked him in the gut, continuing as Steve slid onto the floor. Steve didn’t move. It would be over soon enough, and there was nothing he could do about it, anyway. 

"You did this," Bucky hissed, "I'll never forgive you. You left me to die. You let them erase me. Every time I look at you, I think of how you failed me."

When he was gone, Steve allowed himself to lay on the floor for a few minutes, naked, cold and bruising. He got up after his heart stopped pounding and he realised he wasn't in the Valkyrie.

The bruises were gone when he left the bathroom, but the crack in the shower remained.

The next morning, Bucky woke Steve up with a gentle kiss.

"Morning, Steve. I love you."

Steve didn't even have the energy to cry.

✩✩✩

It was getting worse every day. Steve started avoiding his friends, but when he couldn’t, their interactions became increasingly stilted. He made references to conversations they never had, got caught speaking to himself on far too many occasions. One of the more stressful interactions involved two Bruces, both talking to him at the same time. Steve normally loved chatting with Bruce, so it pained him to have to escape, especially since Bruce clearly knew Steve’s thin excuse was invented.

He managed to keep up his weekly phone calls with Sam, though. Something about the physical act of calling was grounding. After they talked, Steve could go through his call log and assure himself that it was real. He never confused real Sam with the Sam he saw. It was a small comfort.

Everyday, Steve felt less sure that he could handle it. He was putting people in danger on the field, and he could barely manage a casual conversation with his teammates. 

But what would he do if they took him off the team? What would he do if the world found out that Captain America was a nutjob? He didn’t have a life outside of this. He didn't have anything else. Not even his own mind.

✩✩✩

When Steve fell from the helicarrier at the Triskelion, he was barely conscious. His whole body ached. The whistling wind both soothed and stabbed into his wounds. His eyes were so swollen he could barely see anything, just the brightness of the sky. Somewhere on the way down, or perhaps on impact with the water, Steve passed out. He couldn't remember. But he did remember the terror. 

Steve had lived his whole life knowing he was about to die. But the fear never became familiar, and Steve was not relieved at the prospect of death. 

An image of Bucky falling from the train was the last thing Steve remembered thinking about before he woke up in the hospital. 

"-aptain!"

He blinked. Thor looked down at him in concern. It took Steve several seconds to realise that he wasn't in a hospital bed, and he hadn't just been falling from a helicarrier. He was on his back on a training mat. He'd tripped. Captain America, felled by his shoelace.

✩✩✩

Steve’s breaking point came one day after a strained interaction with Natasha, who had appeared to be bleeding profusely from a bullet wound in her head the entire time they were speaking. On top of that, their conversation made Steve feel sure she knew far more than he wanted her to, until he remembered that the conversation might not have even happened. Already stressed, exhausted and desperate for a reprieve, Steve couldn’t handle the sight of Bucky sitting at his kitchen counter when he walked into his apartment. He stared at him for a moment. Bucky clenched and unclenched his fists, a habit Steve had almost forgotten about. It hurt to remember. 

“Steve, I-”

Steve didn’t wait to hear what he’d say. He tried retreating down the hall, hoping Bucky wouldn’t follow. 

“I’m sorry _._ ”

Steve stopped cold. His heart was pounding in his chest. Even though it hadn’t worked so far, he closed his eyes tightly and took deep breaths. _Please, stop_ , he pleaded with his mind, _don’t do this to me_.

He could deal with affection, with teasing, with vitriol. But an apology? A mirage of reconciliation, floating in his hallway like he could grasp it? What was he to do with that? He knew he’d never get what he wanted, but his mind couldn’t seem to help reaching for it.

“Tantalus,” he muttered to himself.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean what I said,” Bucky continued quietly. 

God, it was exactly what he wanted to hear. The pain was unbearable.

A wave of self loathing crashed into him. Steve grunted in frustration. Was he really this pathetic? Was his mind really so broken by a few hurtful words? 

“I miss you.”

He clenched his fists so hard his knuckles turned white.

“ _Steve_ ,” Bucky pleaded, the anguish clear in his voice. 

Something in Steve snapped. 

He’d been trying to cope with this for too long. It was manageable at first, but this? An apology he’d never really hear from Bucky? He couldn’t take more of it. 

If they took him off the team, so be it. In fact, it was possible he _needed_ a break from field work. The Avengers had another supersoldier now anyway.

Turning on his heel, he opened his eyes and tried his best not to look at Bucky’s hopeful expression. 

“Up on the helicarrier I-”

Steve strode past him without a second glance.

“Steve?” 

He slammed the door to the stairwell open, unwilling to trap himself in the elevator with this cruel apparition. Unfortunately, it followed him, voice echoing in the concrete space.

“Where are you going?”

Steve took the stairs two at a time.

“Steve!” Bucky sounded like he was getting angry, and something in Steve relaxed. He could take anger.

“I know you’re mad at me, but you can’t just ignore me! Just tell me to fuck off, and I’ll go!”

The sound of rapid steps filled the stairwell, and Steve knew Bucky was following him. He felt a wry amusement that his mind was going to the trouble of making this hallucination so realistic. 

“I’m trying to apologise, asshole!” 

Steve wanted to laugh, or cry, or both. But he just ran up the stairs faster, sighing in relief when he saw the door to the lab. He pushed it open hurriedly and made a beeline for Bruce. He glanced at Tony staring at a model a few steps away, feeling a twinge of apprehension and embarrassment, but decided that Tony would find out anyway. It made no difference whether he found out that Steve was crazy now or later. A few seconds later, he heard the door swing open again. He didn’t dare look.

Bruce looked up from his work, glancing from Steve to the door in surprise. 

“Bruce. May I have a moment?” Steve asked as calmly as he could manage. 

“Steve, what the hell?” Bucky demanded. Bruce seemed to look right at Bucky, exactly like Natasha seemed to. Steve wondered if those looks were just more tricks of his mind. 

“Uh, yeah, of course, Cap,” Bruce responded uncertainly. Bucky stomped over and stood next to Bruce, glaring at Steve. 

“I need you to run some tests on me,” Steve said, “Scans, tox, screens, something.”

At the request, Bruce straightened, his hesitancy melting away. He looked Steve over in concern. Steve was pretty sure none of the tests he asked for would turn up with anything, but he had to be sure. If it was some villain messing with his water supply or something like that, he wanted to tear them to shreds.

“Is something wrong?”

“Yes. I’ve been hallucinating.”

Tony tore his eyes from his work, looking for all the world like a dog whose ears perked up at the mention of a walk. 

Bucky laughed sardonically, no humour in the sound. 

“Oh, because I’d never apologise, is that the joke? Very funny, pal.”

Steve closed his eyes and took several deep breaths.

“Can you describe what you’re experiencing?” Bruce prompted. Prying his eyes open, Steve pursed his lips and tried to find the words.

Steve let himself look at Bucky properly for the first time since he’d walked into his apartment. His hair was soft and clean, tied back loosely. Those blue eyes, so familiar to Steve, looked the same as they always did. He had some stubble on his face, and his outfit was plain and all black - not necessarily clothes he’d seen on Bucky before, but nondescript enough that he was certain his mind had pulled their image from somewhere else.

“Very vivid visual and auditory hallucinations. Sometimes they feel solid, I can touch them. Sometimes they pass through me like ghosts. They talk like real people. I-” Steve clenched his jaw and forced the words out, “I can’t tell sometimes.”

Bruce frowned and followed Steve’s gaze to where Bucky was still staring at Steve, who was suddenly looking more horrified than angry.

“Uh...are you seeing one right now?” Bruce asked. Steve nodded, staring back at Bucky. 

“What are you seeing?” the doctor pressed. 

The bags under Bucky’s eyes had reduced somewhat since Steve last saw him. He tried not to think of all the ways Bucky was probably doing better since he’d cast Steve out of his life. He tried not to think about how his mind was applying those thoughts to this hallucination anyway.

“What do you see, Cap?” Tony chimed in, materialising at Bruce’s side. Steve didn’t know if that was an indication that he was a hallucination, but he answered anyway.

“I see Bucky.”

The very air in the lab seemed to stand still. Bucky looked like he’d been punched, while Tony was looking back and forth between them in confusion. 

Bruce made a distressed noise, the cogs in his head obviously turning like he’d figured something out. 

“You’re serious, aren’t you?”

Steve just stared at him. Why wouldn’t he be serious? They knew he wasn’t the type to play practical jokes - they were the ones always telling him to loosen up, after all.

“But he’s standing right here,” Tony pointed out, gesturing to Bucky. Steve sighed heavily. Even if this Tony was a hallucination, there was no harm in responding to him. If he was real, then great. If he wasn’t, Bruce would get to see the nut job in action. Maybe it would help him figure out what was wrong with Steve.

“Tony-” he started reproachfully.

“No, seriously!” Tony interrupted, “Barnes is here, unless this is a shared delusion.”

He poked Bucky’s arm, as if it proved a point. Bucky glared at him. Steve made a desperate little noise he would be ashamed of if he hadn’t already revealed that he was insane. 

“I’m asking for your help, _please_. Don’t joke abou-”

“I’m right here, Steve,” Bucky breathed. The hallucination took a step closer, and Steve whipped his attention to it, eyes steely.

“I don’t fall for that anymore,” he snapped. Tony and Bruce shared a look, Bruce mouthing _anymore_. 

“JARVIS,” Bruce said, breaking the silence, “Run a complete scan on Captain Rogers.”

“Running scans,” JARVIS confirmed. Steve sighed in relief. Bruce was going to help him. Bruce was a genius. He would be fine, he would get rid of the hallucinations.

“I’m just gonna set up the blood test,” Bruce murmured, turning back to his station. Out of the corner of his eye, Steve saw Tony watching him pensively.

Suddenly, Bucky roughly grabbed Steve’s shoulders. Steve instantly tensed, pulling away, but Bucky held firm. He shook Steve slightly, staring intensely into his eyes. 

“Do I feel like a hallucination? I’m here, Stevie. I’m real. And I’m sorry I left you to face this alone.”

He felt his face screwing up with emotion despite his best efforts to be stoic. He fiercely, desperately wanted Bucky to actually say these things to him. _I’m here, Stevie._ What Steve would give for this hallucination to be real. If the real Bucky ever spoke to Steve again, he didn’t even need to apologise. Steve wasn’t angry at Bucky at all. He just wanted him back.

Steve refused to let the longing show on his face. He focused on the pain, on the fear, the confusion. 

“What can I do to make you believe me?” asked Bucky softly. He pulled a hand back from Steve’s shoulder abruptly to tuck a stray strand of hair behind his ear. The movement made Steve flinch. Tony, from where he was watching, tilted his head curiously.

“When did the hallucinations start?” he asked. Steve considered lying, but decided against it. 

“1945,” he ground out. Tony’s eyebrows shot up. Bucky opened his mouth in shock, then snapped it shut again. 

“How often?”

“In 1945? It was just that one time, on the Valkyrie. Before it hit the water.”

Bucky made a wounded sound, and his hands tightened on Steve’s shoulders. He rocked Steve toward him hard enough that he had to take a step forward. Steve stared at their feet on the lab’s floor. 

“And you’ve been having them since you woke up?”

Steve shook his head.

“I didn’t have any more until about six months ago. It was once every few months. Now it’s almost everyday.”

“Is it always Barnes?”

“No. Sometimes it’s you. Natasha. Sam. My ma. Loki. Once I saw Coulson.”

“But it’s usually Barnes,” Tony guessed. Steve nodded stiffly. Bucky shook his head, pressing his forehead against Steve’s. 

“Oh, Stevie.” It was so _tender_. Bucky hadn’t spoken to Steve like that since the 40s. Steve felt his shoulders shake as he rattled through a shaky breath. His eyes were burning just a little, so he pressed them firmly shut. 

“What do they do? What do they say?” Tony asked, seeming fascinated by the whole ordeal. Steve gritted his teeth.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Come on, Cap, we’re trying to help!”

Steve sighed. Bruce looked up from where he was tapping away at a screen. 

“Sometimes they attack me. Sometimes they just follow me around. Sometimes…”

Bruce’s keen eyes fixed on Bucky and Steve’s faces hovering inches from each other, the hands on Steve’s shoulders. 

“They talk to you. Keep you company.”

“Yes. It’s...comforting,” Steve admitted reluctantly. 

Bucky inhaled sharply. 

“That’s why you didn’t come sooner?” Bruce speculated. Steve didn’t answer, but it was answer enough. He felt deeply uncomfortable that Tony and Bruce now knew how lonely, how pathetic he was, but it would be worth it if they could help him. 

Bucky seemed to grow determined. There had to be some way for Steve to differentiate between him and his hallucinations. 

“Listen up, Rogers. I’m not a hallucination. Look at me. Do I look how you normally imagine? Usually I have both hands, don’t I? And short hair?”

Steve’s expression didn’t change in the slightest. He stared at Bucky blankly.

“Sometimes.” 

Bucky recoiled in surprise. He stepped back, looking down at his own mismatched hands. The lab settled in tense silence while he digested the information. Steve didn’t find comfort only in the Bucky he knew from his youth. He’d seen this Bucky too, concealed his suffering for the times _this_ Bucky would keep him company. 

A fresh wave of self-loathing and guilt crested in Bucky. He pulled Steve back in, this time crushing him into his arms in a tight embrace. Steve wriggled, weakly trying to escape, but Bucky just held on tighter.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered into Steve’s ear, trying desperately to communicate how sincere he was, how _real_ , “I’m sorry I wasn’t there. I'm sorry for what I said. I’m here now, punk, and I won’t leave you again.” 

Steve knew that it wasn’t real. But it always _felt_ so real. The warmth, the cadence of his breath, the feeling of Bucky’s fingertips on his shoulders where he always curled his fingers in slightly. He’d thought these moments were worth it, at first, to withstand the times he woke up to Bucky’s hands around his neck. He’d been wrong. They were more painful than the phantom bullets. It hurt as much as it healed.

But if Bruce could fix this...it could be the last time Steve ever felt Bucky hug him, even if it wasn’t actually Bucky. 

He clenched his jaw and slowly lifted his arms, clinging tightly to his hallucination. He knew he must’ve looked crazy to Tony and Bruce, but it didn’t matter. He was saying goodbye. He would let Bucky go like he wanted him to.

Bruce met Bucky’s eyes over Steve’s shoulder. He shook his head. 

_Let_ go, Steve told himself, hands wound tightly in Bucky's shirt, _Let him go._

One by one, Steve loosened his fingers. He memorised the feeling of being in Bucky's arms. It took all of his concentration to keep himself composed as he breathed in Bucky's smell for the last time.

He let go.

**Author's Note:**

> CW: Steve has several hallucinations, one in which he is beaten up, and another where he sees a bullet wound on a friend. Neither of these are described in much detail.


End file.
